Dazzle
by Darkflameangel
Summary: The things that are hidden beneath a shiny covering of propriety and manners cant be described in words and are all the more beautiful for it.


Title: What Words Don't Say

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Pairing: Tamaki/Haruhi

Rating: K

Word Count: 686

Keyword: Dazzle

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Ouran High School Host Club or any of its characters dispite my many wishes to.

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Haruhi wandered into the third music room by accident, mostly due to the fact that she left a couple of her textbooks there in her hurry to get home after the Host Club session. Unlike the first time, when she had stumbled into the room looking for a place to study and had ended up breaking a vase that landed her the position as the Host Clubs Dog, this time she wasn't greeted by a flurry of rose petals and a gracious welcome.

The normally well lit room was cloaked in shadows and instead of the chatter of a dozen or so twittering host club patrons when one of the Hosts did something that they considered particularly taboo or obscenely cute, the soft sounds of a piano floated through the room, lingering momentarily in the lofty ceilings that decorated the room in a way that could only be afforded by the deep pockets of the patrons of the school.

Following the rich sounds to the back of the room she found the source bathed in a swath of light that had managed to peek through the drawn curtains. If Haruhi hadn't known that there was nobody else in the room, she would have sworn that Tamaki had set up the scene on purpose. But, most of the students and all the other club members had already headed home around an hour ago, so the poetic elegance of the sun shining on his hair in such a way as to make him almost glow wasn't purposefully staged.

In all actuality, she supposed it didn't matter if Tamaki had set the scene on purpose or if it was just something that happened as a result of the natural elegance that he seemed to exude with little thought. Either way, it was breathtaking and she was afraid to move in fear that it would break the spell that was being weaved around her with every stroke of his fingers upon the ivory keys.

The tale the music wrought was one of love, loss, and unwavering optimism in the face of overwhelming odds. Haruhi had to smile, the music that was drifting softly through the alcoves of the room described Tamaki completely, and she was sure that he was unaware of the message that it carried.

She knew that she wasn't good at picking up the things that the other Hosts seemed so adept at concerning Tamaki, and she adamantly blamed this on the fact that he was so hard to read at times. He baffled, confused, and frustrated her to no end and despite his declarations of affection towards his "daughter," he was surprisingly closed about some things. Or maybe it wasn't that he was closed about it, it was rather that he covered his hurt with a shiny veneer of elegance and manners that made her turn her head away from the glaring pain that lay beneath a glossy perfect surface.

But it was at times like this, when she could observe Tamaki without his Host mask, that she was completely in awe at what she could see. His eyes closed and head swaying gently to the rhythm of the music, lithe fingers weaving a tale that didn't need to be expressed in the words and phrases that Tamaki was so fluent in. Here there was no need to clutter the air with superfluous utterances. Everything that he wanted to say but didn't know how, the emotions that he was afraid to express because he didn't want her to be scared away, floated under the guise of a masterpiece of music.

In Haruhi's mind Tamaki was, not that she would ever admit this aloud and was fighting to admit to herself, beautiful. Even with the shiny veneer stripped away and his soul lay bare by the music he played, he was dazzling. This was the true Tamaki. Granted, she had seen him play before, but never with this sort of raw emotion pouring out through his fingers and reverberating down through the keys to the strings and into the air. This was different. And she had the feeling that this was special.

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A/N: A giftfic written for the lovely Aliora, who loves Tamaki more than she loves me. 


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